Harry Potter and the Curse of the Teenage Angst
by x StarBelle
Summary: what if the Harry Potter characters went through normal teenage issues and angst? rated m for a reason, especially in later chapters. tons of pairings, none dominate right now. set after 5th book.
1. The Revered Malfoy Estate

_Okay guys. Here's the deal._

_First of all. I don't feel like dealing with Harry Potter as it stands now. So I'll be writing as it stood post-fifth book. In my own interpretation, of course. But I don't own anything. Except the characters who don't appear in the books. Those are mine._

_Also, please don't be mean. Constructive criticism is helpful (if something doesn't feel right, speak up!), but "you suck and everything you've ever written and ever will write sucks" is not. If that's how you feel, sod off. Kthanks._

_However, I'm looking for a beta if anyone is interested.  
_

_This is a response to a challenge issued by hpgirl4ever.  
_

_Above all, enjoy! Lol_

**The Revered Malfoy Estate**

Draco Malfoy sat perched on a ledge, overlooking the scene in the enclosed garden below him. His mother sat tersely on the edge of her seat, not at all pleased. Across from her sat a few figures, their faces shrouded by their hoods. The conversation was ominous and held in low voices, but Draco didn't mind. He knew in the back of his mind that what was being said was better that he not hear, but, being Draco, he feigned annoyance at this. He scoffed. "Mother will one day have to learn to include me in important family matters. Without my father around I am the man of the house."

A small giggle came from next to Draco. A pretty little blonde girl was perched next to him, also overlooking the scene. She was maybe two years Draco's younger, but very beautiful. He smiled a cold smile that didn't quite reach his eyes at her laugh. He hated that she laughed at him but loved to see her smile, but he could never let her know that. He dropped his smile into a frown and shot her a look. She immediately sobered up as she saw his face change. "I am very sorry." She had a thick accent, maybe Russian or Ukrainian. Draco, as though expecting her apology, nodded his head to her curtly as he turned his attention back to the room.

His mother was meeting with this girl's father and some of his associates, and had expressedly forbid Draco's presence at this meeting. He had, of course, ignored her to the best of his ability, but the sharp looks she was shooting him were getting annoying, so he stood and walked away from the ledge, toward his back door. "Come on, then." He motioned to the girl, expecting her to follow. She did, much like a lost puppy. This was too easy, so easy that it annoyed Draco. He liked girls to be a challenge. But it was no matter. This girl could still give him what he wanted.

He opened the door for her, and they entered his kitchen. "Something to drink?" He inquired, not waiting for the answer as two wine glasses zoomed over and filled themselves with a dark red, sweet wine that bore a strong resemblance to blood. He took one, and lazily watched the other float over to the girl. She accepted it, not yet taking a sip. "What shall I call you, anyhow?"

"Natalya," she replied, licking her lips and she glanced down at the red liquid. It reflected in her blue eyes. She had the most beautiful eyes, a blend of different colors that somehow made blue. They popped against pale skin. It was unusual, but Draco liked it. "Natalya Nazarenko. Thank you for the wine." She took a sip. The sweet, red liquid swished inside her mouth as she savored it for a moment, then swallowed. Draco watched the liquid slide down her throat, mesmerized. She was beautiful, no doubt about it, but she was also obviously easy. She was in a house surrounded by dark magic, and she still elected to drink the wine. She had made a stupid mistake.

Draco put his own wine down without taking a sip. He'd drugged the wine, and didn't want anything getting in the way of his own clear recollections of the event later. He turned around and pretended to busy himself with tidying the counter as he heard her take another sip. Then he heard her stumble. "Be careful. Drink up and you'll feel better." He turned to watch her tip back her glass and finish the last few drops. He reached out to take her glass, and watched as she stumbled closer to him. Grinning, he caught her in his arms, placing her glass on the counter and propping her up by placing an arm around her waist. "Shh, don't worry, I won't do anything you don't want me to."

He led her quietly to his bedroom, using a flick of his wand to make her light enough to carry up the large staircase. He laid her on the bed as she whimpered that she didn't feel well. "Please stop. You'll feel fine once you've been lying down for a bit." He rose to lock his door, placing his wand down on his desk. She was still whimpering, which was annoying. He glared, tuning her out as he busied himself with things in his room, waiting for the drugs to fully take hold. Once they did, her annoying whimpering would stop, for which he was very grateful.

Natalya had been too easy for him. She'd finished her whole glass in less then five minutes without even considering what Draco could have potentially done to it. She felt funny, and continued drinking. This girl was not satisfying to him. Even the easiest girls at Hogwarts were a bigger challenge then she had been. It truly was disappointing. He shook his head as her whimpers faded to murmurs and, eventually, to nothing. Smiling, he moved toward his bed. He could still see fear in her eyes. The eyes were always the last thing to close, for which he was glad. He liked it when they watched.

Smiling a sick and slightly twisted smile, he leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead.

Some weeks later, on a quiet street in the dead of night, a pale blonde boy was seen wandering in through the nooks and crannies of an almost uninhabited village. He was whistling to himself, obviously pleased by some recent accomplishment.

It was on this very same night that on another quiet street, within the same hour, a dark-haired sixteen-year-old boy sat straight up in bed, as pale as though he'd seen a ghost. For in fact he had.


	2. A Very Strange and Misleading Tuesday

**A Very Strange and Misleading Tuesday**

All was quiet of Privet Drive at this hour. Not even animals ventured out this late at night, with the exception of a solitary owl and a fair few crickets. This owl soared through the streets, in between the various houses, until it returned to number four. An ordinary house by any means, it had a garden and a fence, and a boy sleeping, as could be seen from a window facing the back. The owl perched on the ledge of this window, knocking its beak against the glass to be let in.

With a start, a skinny dark-haired boy sat straight up in bed, the color drained from his face as though he'd seen a ghost. He shook his hair out of his eyes, reaching for a pair of glasses on the bedside table, and then made his way to the window to let in a brilliant, snowy white owl. He smiled, letting the owl go to her cage to eat after he stroked her head. Apparently her hunt hadn't been too successful tonight, as she didn't usually wake her owner this late. But he shrugged it off. She'd woken him from a rather creepy dream anyway.

Harry Potter shut his window against the cold of the night that seemed to invade, even in the summertime. He was a boy of barely sixteen, but had lived far more then those short years should have allowed for. This resulted in him having a maturity that was above his years at times, though at others he acted younger than his age. This very night he'd done something very childish, in fact, in refusing to eat his supper. Not that the food the Dursleys provided him with was something to cry over missing, but now he was starving and had nothing to eat. Shaking his head to clear out the remaining fog from sleep, he tried the doorknob. Locked, as he'd suspected.

He fell back on his bed, his stomach growling against hunger pains. Now, he knew, he'd be lucky if he ever got to sleep. Sitting up, he resolved to write letters, before remembering that he'd be cautioned against sending anything via owl. Well, he could always return to packing for school, as he had to be finished with that soon. He'd recently cleaned out the trunk, and was now preparing to put his new things back. Mr. Weasley had been kind enough to venture out to retrieve his school things, and now all he had to do was unwrap and pack them. Harry had been putting it off, but now seemed as good a time as any to start.

He sat on the floor in front of his trunk, startled what seemed like a few moments later by the sound of his door being unlocked and cries of "Boy!" The large, fat faced man who had barged into his room was none other than Vernon Dursley, his absolutely horrible uncle by marriage. He was red in the face, and seemed extremely peeved about something. Harry glanced into his trunk, which looked exactly the same as it had at three in the morning, and scrambled up, rubbing the fog from his eyes as he did. This had two effects on Harry, the first on his coordination, and the second on his eyes. He simultaneously fell and poked himself in the eye at the same time, cursing himself, just as Vernon Dursley stepped aside to reveal the entire Order of the Phoenix. Cursing himself again, but silently this time, Harry smoothed out the pajamas he was very conscious of wearing as he smiled a half smile at the fully dressed men and women here to protect him. "What are these- these- _people-_ doing in my house?"

Harry shrugged off his uncle's positively livid expression as he examined the members for himself. Notably missing, Harry noticed as his heart sunk, was Sirius. Harry knew he'd never see Sirius again, at least not as he had, but he kept up hope every time. It was heartbreaking each time. All the same, he reached out to hug Remus Lupin, followed by Mr. Weasley, and then anyone else who wanted to check on his well being. Over the crush of people, he saw Uncle Vernon impatiently tapping his foot and glaring at Harry. "Well, boy?" Harry ignored the man. This was his moment. After a few moments, Uncle Vernon huffed, shot Harry a look, and announced: "Well I guess I'll just be going then." Everyone ignored him as he stormed downstairs.

"This is brilliant!" Harry exclaimed to his guests, gesturing for them to sit wherever they could find room. "What are you all doing here? I thought it wasn't safe for me to leave."

"Well, Harry," Remus began. He looked older then he had last time Harry saw him, and Harry was instantly concerned. His hair had grayed further, and he seemed to struggle more with his eyesight. He'd probably been worrying himself to death over Harry and everything. "We decided it'd be best to not tell you then day we intended to move you, but we were always planning on moving you. But don't worry, no one who isn't currently present knows when or where we intend to move you- other than Severus, of course. We're going to go tonight. We're going to take you to the Weasley household. Its well protected, and I'm sure you'll be safe there."

Harry could barely contain his excitement. He was getting out of this house, and he got to go see his two best friends. He hugged Remus again. "I've just got to pack and we can be on our way."

Come nightfall, Harry was practically itching to be gone. He was packed and loaded up, ready to fly. Remus had told him they'd be flying, which was unusual but not at all upsetting to Harry, who very much missed flying. At almost midnight, everyone gathered on Privet Drive under the extinguished streetlights, Harry's things loaded and ready to go on several brooms. The formation was given, and everyone lifted off as Harry waved goodbye to Privet Drive for the rest of the year. He was draped in his invisibility cloak, and sat not quite in the center but slightly off the left of the formation. Mr. Weasley flew on his left, and Remus was on his right. Harry felt very safe between these two who obviously cared very much for him.

The flight to the Weasley's was, overall, uneventful, but Harry was still glad to find himself with two feet on solid ground, especially because those two feet were immediately greeted by Ron, Hermonie, and Mrs. Weasley. Harry smiled as Mrs. Weasley embraced him, followed by Hermonie. Ron had a grin from ear to ear, and shook Harry's hand. "Alright there, Harry?" he inquired, obviously relived to have Harry with them. Everyone was obviously relieved that Harry was with them, safe and sound.

"Shall we?" Mrs. Weasley asked, gesturing toward the house with an obvious suggestion.

"Actually, Molly, we'd best be on our way. Tonks and Mad-eye will be first watch. We can't draw any more attention to ourselves that we already have." Remus was forever the voice of reason, and Mrs. Weasley nodded. "And, of course, Arthur will be staying, so he'll be some added protection." Remus smiled, embraced Harry once more. "Goodbye Harry. I suspect we'll meet again very soon." He shook Harry's hand, and then apparated away with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix.

Once they were all gone, Mrs. Weasley seized Ron and Hermonie's hand and began pulling them towards the house. "Come dears, we musn't tarry long. I'm sure Harry has had a hard day and would like to relax." Though Harry didn't feel tired, there was no arguing with Mrs. Weasley. She led them inside. Harry had to give them all credit, as they'd waited up pretty much all night on his arrival, and Mrs. Weasley still had hot food to give him. He sat greedily and began eating, forgetting even to ask if the food was intended for him or not. Mrs. Weasley delightedly clapped her hands together, and quickly sent Ron and Hermonie upstairs. "Harry, dear, how are you?"

Harry looked at Mrs. Weasley, who promptly hugged him. "I've been fine, thanks. Life with the Dursleys went as usual." He shrugged, turned back to his food, and began eating more. Whatever she'd made was delicious, and Harry was hungry enough to eat for a small army. "Thank you for everything," he muttered though a full mouth, grinning sheepishly at his own lack of manners. He swallowed and then offered an offhand apology before he continued eating.

Mrs. Weasley just seemed happy to have him there, but soon grew tired, as did Harry. She quickly zoomed his plate to the sink, having it wash itself as she led him upstairs to the room he'd be sharing with Ron. Ron was already asleep, and Harry understood why as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	3. A Fickle Prophecy

**A Fickle Prophecy  
**

It was a typically night at the Hog's Head. There were several people shrouded in cloaks and hoods, and others wearing magical masks that changed their appearance just for the night, and yet others who just sat in such a way that no one could really see them without looking.. Either way, no one there wanted to be recognized, which is what made it perfect for Draco's purposes. And they'd better work; after all, he'd turned down an evening with Pansy Parkinson, his on-again-off-again girlfriend to be here.

That's when he spotted her. Obviously quite upset about something, a young-looking girl was drowning her sorrows in butterbeer. She looked so very sad, so of course Draco had to go talk to her. As he got closer, she seemed more and more familiar, but between her cloak and mask, she was completely unrecognizable to him, in face at least. He glanced at the barkeep, who had his back turned momentarily. "Two butterbeers ." Draco said, just loudly enough for the man to hear him.

The barkeep whipped around, filling two mugs with warm, delicious butterbeer. He slid one in front of the girl at the counter. She looked down at the one she was drinking, the new one, and then up at Draco, smiling. She pushed his drink aside. "I've one already, thanks." She seemed so young and innocent, but was captivating still. She was intriguing.

Draco smiled at her. He'd done little to disguise his appearance, but the girl seemed to not recognize him. Or perhaps she was just a very good actress. He smiled at her, trying to be charming, but she ignored him and turned back to her drink. Draco was put out, but he was certainly nothing if not persistent. "You should consider yourself lucky, I rarely buy women a drink." He slid the drink back towards her, wanting to touch her soft-looking red hair. "You have such lovely hair." He fingered the ends of her shortened bob until she moved her head to look straight at him. It was obvious she did not want him touching her.

"Well I often receive drinks from men, so I've no interest in yours." She smiled, her smile intriguing and captivating. He just could not figure out what she was smiling about. What on Earth could be behind that captivating smile? He simply had to find out. "And I like my hair just fine as it was, untouched." She was infuriating. Women usually fell almost immediately for his good looks and charm but this girl didn't seem to care a lick for either. He stewed silently, placing a few galleons on the bar for the two drinks, far more than he owed the man. Maybe she was attracted to money. Maybe she was a prostitute. After all, nice girls didn't usually find themselves in the Hog's Head.

"Well if you won't take my drink, can I at least have the pleasure of your company?" He offered her his arm.

"You can have the pleasure of my company all you like, so long as you don't mind that it'll be from across the room." Ofh, this girl was frustrating. But Draco was always up to a good challenge.

"At least tell me your name."

"I'd prefer not to." If someone had told him she'd do this before, he might not have wasted his time. But now that he was into it, he felt he ha no choice but to continue. He had to win. She couldn't best him. No woman had ever turned him down this vehemently before.

"Well, I shall have to call you something then." Oh how Draco wished he were old enough to use magic in such a public place as this without someone noticing. If he were to control her mind, he could put her into a position where it'd be much more difficult to not comply with his wishes. Draco was not one for these difficult battles. He drugged women, controlled women, only taking the easy and willing ones. Challenge infuriated him, and when he was angry he got dangerous. A girl whimpering for him to stop was much easier than the broad in the bar who wouldn't even share her name. He'd play her game for only a little longer before he'd have it his way. "I think you look like a Mildred. It seems fitting."

The girl sighed into her drink, then tipped back the mug, letting the last few warm drops roll down her throat. "Look, I'd like to be left alone if you don't mind. Not that its any of your business but I've had a difficult day and you will not make it any better."

Draco's eyes lit up. "That is where you're wrong. I could make your day end much better then it started."

This did not have the desired effect, instead causing the girl to get her wallet, throw some money on the counter, and make her way to the bathroom. Draco leaned back, dejected. How he'd hoped she'd give in, how he'd hoped he wouldn't have to resort to other methods with this girl. As he looked around the mostly empty pub, he noticed on sneering face in the corner. It was an old hag, and she beckoned him over, as though she had something important to tell him.

It took two seconds, but he decided to make his way to the old hag. He sat down on the hard wooden bench across from her, his eyes examining her old, knobbed hands, heavily freckled skin, and uneven yellow teeth as she sneered. The women was thin as a rail, so much so that you could see her collar bones protruding from her chest, as her dress fell just above her breast. Her clothing was ragged and dirty. He immediately stood to leave, but she reached out a calloused hand and took his in her own. "Sit." He did as she said. Her voice was powerful for such a frail looking woman. "She'll leave the bar, and you'll follow. Leave her alone or you'll have a curse with you the rest of your life." Draco scoffed. What could this woman know? "So it is written, so it shall be."

He quickly jerked his hand from hers. "Don't touch me anymore. What do you know? You're just an old hag." As if before his eyes, the old hag in front of him suddenly became beautiful. He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed, but they were seemingly unaware that any change had taken place. How could they not see her? She radiated light and beauty. Her skin had smoothed, paled, and lost its freckles. She'd put on a pound or two. Her hands looked soft to the touch and her dress was fit for a queen, falling just above the swell of delicate breasts Draco would very much like to see uncloaked. Just as he was wondering if his eyes had played a trick on him, she transformed to the redhead from the bar. She reached out and took his hand again. "Heed my words, Draco Malfoy." She whispered his name so only he could hear. She then transformed back into the old hag as Draco shifted his weight on the uncomfortable wooden bench, stunned.

The woman was creepy, so he stood, pushing back his bench, only to find his face inches from the girl who'd been at the bar. He did a double take between her and the old woman, to make sure it was really her this time. She was sitting, acting as though nothing had happened. The redhead fixed her eyes on him. He smirked. "Yes, Mildred?"

She ignored that which was obviously not her name. "I was going to ask you to walk me out, but I can see you are previously engaged." With that she spun on her heels and exited the pub. Draco shot an angry glance to the old women, who seemed oblivious to what had just happened. It was almost as though she were inanimate, with how she sat, cupping her drink in both hands and sitting perfectly still. It was odd, but he had no time to consider it as he bolted after the girl.

When he exited the pub, she was already halfway down a back alley he'd never noticed before. He walked at a steady but quick pace, catching up to her slowly, smirking. She turned right before he reached her. "Still don't want to tell me your name?" She shook her head, spinning on her heel to keep moving, but Draco grabbed her arm. He was stronger then her, and he soon had her pushed up against the wall. "Your loss." He pushed the entirety of his body weight into her, pinning her to the wall, as he fumbled in his pockets for a small bag. From it he removed a few small, white pills, which he forced into her opened mouth. Her eyes watered at the bitter taste, but she seemed determined not to show pain. Soon her felt her body go slack, and carried her to a soft but dark and secluded grassy area. He laid her body down there, then stroked her hair as he waited for the drugs to fully take hold. She whimpered, but he ignored her as he hummed a little to himself. Her eyes were full of fear, for which he was glad. He was a man to be feared, damnnit! She'd know once he was done with her.

Finally her whimpering stopped. It was time.


End file.
